The Breaking of the Fellowship
by Min Daae
Summary: Angrod and Celegorm were friends, once. But things change, and after everything, it was never going to last long, all hopes aside.


Angrod found himself staring at a friend that he didn't know anymore.

He had Celegorm's face, and Celegorm's body and build, but not his cousin's eyes, grey and open and clear and alive. Something had gone out of them, some unidentifiable light. Angrod wondered if that was what happened when someone became an unrepentant, Kinslaying, traitorous bastard.

"What are you doing here?" Celegorm asked him, voice hostile, flat as iron. No warmth. No nothing.

"I came to talk to you," Angrod said, after a moment. "I thought you might want to explain."

"Explain what?" Celegorm snapped, shifting, slightly. Angrod could see his fingers inching toward his sword. "I have nothing to explain myself to you for. Why have you come now?"

So news traveled fast. "Before anything else happens," Angrod said, honestly, "I wanted to hear…if you had anything to say for yourself."

"There is nothing I wish to say to you."

"Earwen is dead," Angrod said tonelessly, "Turukano has withdrawn. No one knows where he's gone. And there is nothing you wish to say?" He was almost disappointed, though he knew that he shouldn't have been, shouldn't have been expecting anything.

"Why should I care?" Celegorm sneered. "There was never any love between Turukano and I."

"I could have died," Angrod tried, and his old friend looked at him coldly.

"Perhaps it would have been better if you had," he said, voice like the clang of iron doors swinging closed. He imagined reaching out, seizing them, knowing too strongly that if he didn't find a way here, it would only get worse.

"Listen to me, Tyelko," he said, keeping his voice low and even. "I only want you to admit that what you did-"

"What _I _did?" Celegorm took a step forward, nostrils flaring. "What I did, Angarato? What about what _you _did?"

"I told the truth," Angrod said, looking up stubbornly. "I do not approve of Elwë's decision-"

"You knew what he would say!" Celegorm bellowed, cutting him off. "You _knew! _You deliberately sabotaged us in order to save your miserable hide-"

"Do you think you could have kept it secret forever?" Angrod cried. "Do you think that he wouldn't have pursued answers to the end of the earth, if I hadn't said anything? Better that we have his alliance than no one. This way-"

He could see Celegorm trembling with anger and stopped. "That's not what this is about," he insisted, knowing that he wouldn't have too much time. "I wanted to talk to you. About everything. What happened; give you a chance to explain-"

"I don't need to explain anything to you, _cousin._"

"I'm trying to understand! Don't you – I'm trying to give you a _chance._"

Celegorm stiffened. "A chance at what? Your brand of cowardice? The friendship of some backwards king in the woods? A chance at regaining your worthless _friendship?_" He spat. "Unlike you, I make no excuses."

Angrod wanted to say that he didn't know that face; the angry, twisted sneer. But he did; knew it very well. Better than most. "Don't talk to me about betrayal," he said, angrily. "I watched Elves die on that ice. People I've known since I was young. That's not the friendship I want. But I want to spare more bloodshed-"

Celegorm thrust out a hand, and Angrod nearly stepped back, surprised at the sharp movement, until he realized that Celegorm only wanted him to look at the ring on his forefinger. "Do you see this?" His old friend said. "He gave it to us. As proof of our loyalty. Maybe that doesn't mean anything to you, Angarato, but it does to me."

"And you're going to let your loyalty drag you down into the Everlasting Darkness?" Angrod heard himself yell, fists balling up with fury. "You're going to let him ruin everything good about you and make you into nothing but a murderer? I know you, Tyelko, I know that this isn't you, but your father is _wrong._"

He knew it was the worst thing he could say the moment it was out, but by then he was already flat on his back with his ears ringing, Celegorm towering over him with a hand on his sword hilt, and snarling nastily. "_How dare you speak about my father that way,_" he hissed. "You, of all people – _you-_"

Angrod stayed where he was, breathing hard, and put a hand gingerly to his mouth. His lips were bleeding, but all his teeth were in place. "I don't want to be here," he said, clearly. "There's nothing I want more than to be able to tell you to go to hell and leave. You're not my responsibility anymore. But I can't do that. You're my _friend._ Or you _were._ Remember?"

Celegorm was very still, his chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes steely with anger. For the first time that Angrod could remember, he was unable to read his friend's expression. "I remember," he said, finally, "Nothing."

Angrod let out his breath through his teeth. "You can't just deny it like that."

"The moment you told Elwë what happened at Alqualonde," Celegorm said dully, "Knowing what he would do…you lost the right to call me 'friend.'"

Angrod could feel himself start to shake, the anger that he knew he should hold back rising again. "Is this what it looks like," he said, calmly, "To see your _best friend _turn into a creature as bad as the Enemy?"

He could have taken fury; would have expected it. Could have taken any degree of rage, anything. It didn't come. Celegorm stepped back, his face unreadable again, and Angrod shoved himself to a sitting position.

"Get out," Celegorm said.

"There's nothing you want to say?" Angrod insisted, angrily. "No explanation you're even going to try to give for doing what you've done?"

"Get out," Celegorm said again, his voice hollow and too-quiet.

"Nothing you want to _apologize for?_"

Celegorm stepped forward, and Angrod looked at his eyes again, and froze. Nothing looked back at him. Not nothing, but Nothing, Nothingness, like it was something living, sucking up the remnants of his soul.

"Did I ever know you?" He heard himself whisper, afraid for the first time.

"Get out," Celegorm said, in that strange, hollow voice. "Before I kill you."

It wasn't an idle threat. Angrod stepped back one step, then two. "What have you become?" He asked, and his cousin looked right through him, one hand wrapped white knuckled around his sword.

There was nothing he knew in this creature.

He went. There was nothing left to do, and no answers to find here.


End file.
